


Flare

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, From dislike to like, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Tension, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ushijima ebooks (bokutowl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutowl/gifts).



> Dear recipIENT PLS DON'T WORRY! There will be cute and funny things but, later .v.;;; I could only imagine them starting off the way I wrote it, but I hope you have a lot of fun with the way Ushijima woos the subject of his desire :D Once again, I hope you like it ;v; alSO;;;;;; due to time problems and my darlin' beta having to go to Wisconsin for a week, the second half (aka the fun half :D) isn't ready for your viewing pleasure yet;;;; I can only ask your forgiveness and request your patience~~~ but hey sweety? I wrote a lot so I hope you don't be too mad ;;
> 
> There’s mention of the Shiratorizawa team, but its names only .v.b so no huge spoilers~

He’d heard a demanding ‘Stop!’ from behind him. Wakatoshi had watched Iwaizumi sprint towards him, and upon being within earshot, the Aobajousai ace had started to rant. After he had talked himself out of breath, the intruder stood with one hand on his knee, the other on his chest. Although Wakatoshi knew the proper way to get air to one’s lungs was to raise the arms above or behind the head, he observed Iwaizumi. Catching his breath didn’t take long, and soon those defiant, prideful eyes glared straight back at him. 

Dark brown eyes dared Wakatoshi to say no.

“To hell with ‘we don’t have time’. What, you think we’re some substandard team!? Don’t look down on us, and don’t you dare grin at me, cow-face.” Iwaizumi grunts, head held high as he squares his shoulders. “Your coach thinks it's a waste of time to have a practice match, but isn’t it fear?” Smirking as he speaks, Iwaizumi tilts his head, challenging. 

As it is, Wakatoshi didn’t have high expectations from Aobajousai, their ace included. Nonetheless, Iwaizumi had come here, fierce and ambitious, willing to force Wakatoshi’s compliance. 

Wakatoshi’s eyebrow moves at the absurd consideration. “We are not afraid. It’s simple; you cannot be victorious as long as we are on the court.” 

Dealing with opponents who didn’t learn their place could be irritating. Each time they vowed that Shiratorizawa would be defeated. And each time they would learn the stone cold truth the hard way. Today’s provocation put Wakatoshi on a different edge, however. The whole air around the pair was peculiar. People from Wakatoshi’s school passed by, ignoring how yet another challenger stood on their grounds, claiming to be stronger. His eyes hover back to Iwaizumi’s face, lingering on little pearls of sweat running down the tan face. The beginning of summer shows well on Iwaizumi’s skin. 

“You are defeatable. Seijou will prove that to you. _If_ you’re not too chicken-shit to face us.” Iwaizumi’s smirk widens, despite the gap in strength between the two aces. 

“No one can, and no one will.” A rare gust of air breathes on Wakatoshi’s neck; his skin crawls at the touch, creating goosebumps he disregards as aberrant nonsense. Yet there’s another feeling, which goes deeper. He laughs when Iwaizumi opens his mouth for another predictable rant, but Wakatoshi holds his hand up, silencing him, the smile lingering.

“Have it your way. Try to make sure your entire team is up for it. We won’t go easy on you.” Wakatoshi turns, eager to leave before anyone can breathe a word of this to the principal. He doesn’t need another scolding. Plus, he doesn’t like the goosebumps that run along his arm when he stares at Iwaizumi. The sounds from the gym request his return. One foot hovers over the threshold, one last tug from behind stopping his motion. 

“I’m gonna trash you, Ushijima.” 

This time, the footsteps behind him run away from him, as soon as Iwaizumi says his last words. Wakatoshi cannot help it when his head turns to watch Iwaizumi go, his interest sparked. Even if it’s just hot air and all talk, he was able to see Iwaizumi like this without the annoying presence of Oikawa. An entire different feeling. As if Oikawa overshadows something Wakatoshi hadn’t seen before, which fascinates him. 

*~*~*

Wakatoshi should have seen it coming. Of course, after the talk to Coach Washijou, granting Aobajousai a visit to their gym, Oikawa thought this enabled him to waltz in and declare that they’ll defeat Shiratorizawa at last. Wakatoshi cannot help but be unimpressed, shaking hands with the other captain before their practice match starts. They had an extra training scheduled for after lunch on Sunday, and it had been no problem to fit in this little exercise beforehand. Time to let Oikawa know what he thought of the pompous entrance. 

“Maybe your team could get a set from our middle school. We’re out of reach for you.” Wakatoshi doesn’t give attention to Oikawa’s hand when it grips his own harder. Distracted, his eyes drift off to a pair of angry-looking third years, both with black hair and thick brows. Seijou’s #2 and #4, more than eager to start a fight.

Six sets, played out in three matches, the outcome is as it should be. Wakatoshi wipes the sweat from his face and neck, ignoring Goshiki’s claims on the well-spiked attacks that earned their club an overwhelming victory. Thirsty, Wakatoshi walks past his team to reach for a bottle of water. His eyes know distraction once more, glancing to the team on the other side of the net. Dressed in white and aqua, even after yet another crushing loss, Iwaizumi stands tall and proud still. If he’s fazed by the sight of it, Wakatoshi doesn’t show it. 

“Those guys, they really hate the word ‘giving up’, mhn? I can’t decide if it’s stupid to keep trying so hard, or if they are amiable.” Tendou smiles, a smirk justified by the win. He had blocked many of Iwaizumi attacks, as well as the mediocre attacks of the aggressive bleached second year, and of the lanky first year middle blocker. 

Tendou waves his hand in front of Wakatoshi’s face; the attention earlier had been a mere nod. Goshiki proclaims he could be handling another match, but Tendou shoves him away, then starts pleading to Wakatoshi’s good nature. 

“For the love of everything, Wakatoshi, please do not consent to another match. I know you had a lot of fun going against their ace, but I’m begging you, we’re tired.” Tendou’s hand extends to the rest of the rather silent team, while keeping Goshiki’s exclaims at bay with the other arm. 

Focusing on hydration, Wakatoshi enjoys the water which refreshes his throat, while some drops slip past his mouth. He wipes it off with the back of his hand before addressing Tendou.

“That won’t be necessary. They’ve had enough.” He watches the other team drink and pack up, Oikawa staring at him from the bench. Courtesy would have them both shake hands and thank each other for the time, but Oikawa doesn’t make a move towards him. Instead, it's Iwaizumi. Putting the water bottle aside, Wakatoshi goes to meet him halfway, well out of earshot of his team. A lot more than he would like, Wakatoshi’s attention had been drawn to the ace, the source of the rowdy and rude comments during the match, which had done little in aiding them to win. The only effect Wakatoshi would grant the spirit shown was that it had made Wakatoshi excited.

“Keep your comments to yourself, bastard.” Iwaizumi adds a strong ‘tch’, which could have been a spit in Wakatoshi’s face the way he hisses. Wakatoshi keeps it cool, not letting any negativity thrown at his feet dissuade him. 

“...I haven’t said anything yet.” 

“And you don’t have to, either!” Defiant to the last breath, Iwaizumi doesn’t let his eyes wander to the ground. Although they are empty, beaten, they stare at Wakatoshi, while the hands idle by his side. The image doesn’t agree with what Wakatoshi had seen yesterday. He feels compelled to drag the specific gleam out of Iwaizumi once again.

“Isn’t advice supposed to make you a better player? You should be grateful to receive it from me, as it is plentiful.” Wakatoshi means it, yet a vein pops on Iwaizumi’s forehead. The slacking shoulders from before go up in an aggressive stance, and the grin on Iwaizumi’s face freezes. Like a robot, Iwaizumi extends an arm for the handshake. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet us today.” The tone should have been flat, but instead the voice trembles, as if there is a need to resist to keep the anger from spilling out. 

Wakatoshi shakes the hand, the result pleasing him. Not letting go when Iwaizumi wants to retreat, he lets his fingers curl in a tight grip, keeping their hands within the hold. Squinting, Iwaizumi’s eyes drop to where his hand stays trapped in an iron handshake.

“I kinda need my hand back, Ushi-”

“Meet me tonight, at 8 o’clock by the gates.” He feels sheepish, using the same words girls would often use when they talk to him during lunch break and before matches. Holding Iwaizumi’s hand feels stranger by the second. Taken aback, Iwaizumi wrestles his hand away from him, as if it burned, his face distorting by furrowing brows and open lips, not understanding. 

“The hell would I wanna meet you here for?” Behind Iwaizumi, Seijou had finished packing up, most first years and some second years filing out of the gym. Wakatoshi had two options: to say it in truth, or to hide his intentions until later. An easy decision. 

“I’d like to meet you in private.” 

Their young coach called Iwaizumi, who didn’t react due to his brain processing the meaning of what Wakatoshi said . “You- what? Are you kidding me?”

“Hmmph, I’m certainly not. Despite your lack of ability, and your sheer overconfidence, I find your boldness attractive, and I believe it would be more suited in… other circumstances.” Stoic as he might be, Wakatoshi shows a smile, wishing that Iwaizumi would either be curious or brazen enough to accept the offer. The face he sees instead draws a blank, the direct approach and implications in Wakatoshi’s words perhaps too much after being crushed. On top of that, the Seijou coaches were waiting, calling out Iwaizumi’s name and warning him not to start a fight. 

“You fucking bastard.” Iwaizumi comes as far as one step, before Oikawa appears, an arm slings around Iwaizumi’s chest, pulling him away. They exchange brief words Wakatoshi can’t hear. The closeness between the two disturbs him somewhat. Worse however, Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa off him to turn towards the gym’s doors, not answering Wakatoshi.

“Ushijima, what have you said this time? That little ace got all ready to pound you one.”

Wakatoshi sighs, ignoring Tendou’s stabs, watching jersey #4 leave the gym at last. 

*~*~* 

“Kindaichi, watch your legs.” Hajime tries not to scold him too much. It is an impressive feat for a volleyball player to try and catch a ball using his leg. However, landing from a block and trying to touch the ball offers too much opportunity for injuries. 

“Y-yes, sorry. I won’t do it again.” Kindaichi bows, red around the ears. Hajime laughs, knowing quite well he just tries to be cool and helpful. Patting the shoulder, he lets Kindaichi rise to his full height. 

“It’s fine if you bump it on your knee. Be careful, alright?” Hajime watches the first year move along, then glances at the clock. Practice would be over in a few minutes. Afterwards there would be stretching, cleaning up, changing clothes, and kicking Tooru’s butt back home. By then, it would be past 7 o’clock. Ample time to go to Shiratorizawa. He shakes his head before planting both hands on his sides. There was no way he’d go up and meet that shithead Ushijima. To have the guts to propose such a thing, implying the most ridiculous..!

“-san. Iwaizumi-san, can you hear me?” Kunimi calls, stopping short from a jog he’d taken. 

“What is it!?” The tone harsher than he’d meant, Hajime’s glare focuses on Kunimi. 

“I asked a few times if you’d put the net down on your end.” Kunimi calm face didn’t show any signs of disturbance, apart from a raised eyebrow. Hajime registers at last that he actually had stopped in his furious thoughts, and had come to stand at the pole. Kindaichi and Yahaba had taken it down on their end already, and apparently Kunimi had attempted to call him, caught spacing out. Cursing to himself, Hajime turns to undo the net’s fastenings, aided by Kunimi. He thanks him for his patience, for the help, and for not asking any questions. 

Earlier, they’d been on a train which had left the station near Shiratorizawa high school. A core group of regulars ended up walking to their own gym without thinking, even Kyoutani, walking behind Yahaba and grumbling. Coach Mizoguchi had sighed, and tried to discourage them from any more volleyball practice. Tooru’s determination sparked re-thinking, and they’d ended up leaving their frustration here. 

Mopping (not moping at all), Hajime uses the time to forget about today’s grand defeat, the feelings of not being strong enough making him stab the floor with the wet mop, splashing water over his shoes. He was trying to forget about everything Ushijima had said, suggested. 

“No good figuring out what that cow-head wants.”

*~*~*

On his way home, he couldn’t help but think about those words. Furthermore, images of what two men could do together came in Hajime’s mind walking past the lit streets. He missed walking home and seeing the sunset. Those days came closer with every week. Kicking a stone from the pavement, he grumbles at the inability to get Ushijima out of his mind, every inch of that tall asshole, all the way to the top of his stupid face. Hajime tells himself that he’d been made a fool of, some sick trick. Maybe Ushijima gets a kick out of it, _maybe_ he’d said those things to Tooru, too. 

Hajime’s enragement gets the better of him, all the way to his front door, stomping inside the entrance, ready to call Tooru and question him. At the sight of his family, he cools down, notifying his mother he’d be at the dinner table in a moment. It takes the steam out of him, and he vows to push today out of his mind, at least for tonight.

*~*~* 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Matsukawa growls, nodding at someone behind Hajime. Hanamaki sees the person too, and a rare scowl appears on his face. 

“He has some gall, I’ll give him that.” The amount of contempt on their faces and in their voices made Hajime’s mouth leave the straw from which he was drinking his iced tea. Curious, he turns his head around to see what they mean. The grip on the can he holds tightens, crushing the tin in his grasp. _To have the fucking nerve…_

“The hell!?” Hajime turns his whole body to face Ushijima, who was standing in their hallway - _in their school_ \- as if it were the most normal place for him to be. Lunchtime on a Monday, and Ushijima had absolutely no right to be there.

“Iwaizumi.”

As the hallway thickened with hostility, classmates and neighboring classes split to make a pathway for Ushijima through which he could walk. Eyes set on Hajime, who refuses to cause a riot by flinging the can in his hand at the man drawing nearer. Keeping ample distance between them, Ushijima stops in front of him, to descend in a slight bow.

“You didn’t come yesterday.” Not put off by the sputtering behind Hajime, Ushijima keeps his hands in his pockets, glaring at him. “I waited for about 30 minutes-”

“In which universe do you think I’d come and see you, idiot cow-face!?” Both Matsukawa and Hanamatsu take a hold of Hajime, the can of tea falling out of his grasp as he struggles in their grip. They pull him backwards when he tries to kick at Ushijima. Some girls gasp, and Hajime knows he’ll be in trouble one way or the other. Might as well let his resentment and fury discharge, if Ushijima had come all the way here. 

“Calm yourself. Is there a place here where we can talk in private?” 

“You’re really aloof, huh? Get out of here, Ushiwaka.” Hanamatsu confronts him, pushing Hajime with a hand on the shoulder behind him. They manage to control him at least, Matsukawa calming Hajime down in short whispers. “Unknown to you, us decent people aren’t in for a fight outside the court.” 

If only Ushijima would have come for a fight, Hajime would have given him that gladly.

“...I have no wish to fight. My intention is to talk to Iwaizumi about something I said yesterday.”

“If it isn’t an apology for whatever your blunt mouth spit out, you’d better leave.” Matsukawa lets go of Hajime when he believes it safe, also standing up to Ushijima, as the tallest of the three; a good match to glare at him using every bit of contempt he has. Both of them were cool-headed, chill types, whom Hajime liked to hang out with. Seeing them like this off the court was new for him. 

Ushijima’s eyes move from one to the other, finding a spot in their midst to look at Iwaizumi. 

“You’ve got practice today, until 7? I’ll meet you then.” Ushijima turns, the mass of people who’d come to see what went on are pushed aside by his mere presence. 

“I don’t wanna!” Hajime yells back, their class representative scolding him in turn. He breathes hard, even as he cleans up the tea he’d thrown down earlier. Hanamatsu and Matsukawa discuss Ushijima’s weird behaviour, but they don’t ask what he’d meant by all of it. They leave Hajime and his thoughts alone for the rest of the day. 

*~*~*

“...No one ever taught you how to take no for an answer, did they?” It had gotten late, and Hajime had been in charge of closing up for today. He’d sent Tooru and his stupid inquisition off, kicking his ass when he didn’t move. Word of what had happened in their hallway spread fast, even though Hanamatsu and Matsukawa hadn’t spilled a syllable about it. Hajime had been bothered since the beginning of training, but had felt at ease once they began cleaning.

Until he saw Ushijima’s face, he’d had nettling emotions. He had seen Ushijima lean on Aobajousai’s entrance gate as if he belonged there. As if this was the most natural thing to do, the most natural place for him to be. As if Hajime had shown any indication of agreeing to meet him here after training. 

“No, not one ever tried. Same could be said to you, I presume.” Peeling himself off the stone, Ushijima moves to stand before Hajime. The latter had cooled off since lunch, and tries to deal with this obstacle in front of him in a much calmer manner. He’d been threatened with suspension by their principle earlier, something he couldn’t allow to happen under any circumstances. 

“Allow me to be your teacher then: no. I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking or what the fuck you want from me-”

“Didn’t I made it clear enough for you?” Coming closer, Ushijima steps into Hajime’s private space, unlike the distance he’d kept since yesterday when there were others nearby. Wind blows through the leaves of the trees surrounding the school, some of which had been planted by the founders themselves. The same cool air lands on Hajime’s bare arms, his jersey sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He watches Ushijima, unflinching, the stone-face inhaling before speaking the next words. “I want you.”

That’s it for Hajime. He’s done figuring out what this bull tries to get at, and certainly he will not just stand here being used for a stupid prank. Grinning, Hajime crosses his arms on his chest, nodding at Ushijima, the same way he’d challenged him and his integrity when Hajime had gone to Shiratorizawa, demanding a practice match. Hajime readies himself to take all that bravado out of Ushijima single-handedly, to make him quit. “The things you say are even more ridiculous with that impassive face of yours. Know what? I don’t believe you. Prove it to me, then. Show me how much-” 

He’s not allowed to finish his sentence. Not when Ushijima’s hands push below his jawline, bringing Hajime’s face upwards, into a kiss. It’s full on lips on his, while he stares in shock at Ushijima’s open eyes. It’s lips only, touching in a softer-than-expected manner. The wind blows again, but Hajime doesn’t sense the cold. His body boils all over, by fingers just below his ears, to his crossed arms, pressing against Ushijima’s chest.

“Enough validation?

Stunned silence reigns his mouth immobile. Warm hands from when Ushijima had them in his pockets, brush on Hajime’s neck, a single thumb brushing his cheek. Both ideas of punching Ushijima in the face and breaking his nose, as well as attacking him for another kiss float through Hajime’s mind.

In the end, since there’s no one to watch, and his heartbeat pumps too loud in his ears to even think about other options such as leaving, he ends up with a compromise of both. Stepping on Ushijima’s feet, Hajime’s hands reach up, cursing, damning Ushijima to hell. He kisses him, using his tongue for good measure, setting aside whatever weird contradictions stood between them the other day. If he’s going to do this, at least he can give it all, the same way he plays. Surprised, Ushijima’s arms go around his waist, holding him, head tilting to deepen the kiss, the same ferocity Hajime offers.

There’s absolute no care left when their tongues coil around each other, and Hajime closes his eyes, only after Ushijima does as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa is being a good friend and Iwaizumi makes use of a 'fun box'.
> 
> How pleased Ushijima will be... has to be found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last the second part~ I had a lot of fun writing this, and I tried out something new. Hope you like this, dear recipient 'v'

Tooru kicks his foot. Irritation clear on his face, Hajime swallows his words as he sees the face of his friend. The trouble apparent on his face, Tooru also carries a box in his arms. Setting a magazine he’d picked off Tooru’s floor aside, Hajime crosses his legs, waits for Tooru to set the box before him.

_It’s one thing after the other._ Hajime’s face falls when he sees what Tooru brings him. 

It’s been a month since kissing Ushijima the first time, and they’ve met up to do other stuff after four weeks had passed by in a flash. Since last Friday, at which both of them had been free at night, Hajime’s ass hurt. That’s why, Tooru’s study invitation evolved into Hajime making a beeline for the bed, but not to fall head first on top He’d taken some of the big-ass pillows, and planted himself on the floor. 

Tooru had been off lately. Hajime hadn’t noticed it, too occupied with his new 190cm tall acquisition. Yahaba had so, and talked to Hajime the other day about it. Knowing nothing, Hajime had shaken him off grunting about it being ‘girl related’. He had to deal with dating himself, and having sex with a dude. Peering at the box, Hajime couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Tooru’s problem was.

“What’s all this?” Not shy of the toys in front of him, Hajime picks up a DVD, nude women in various sexual positions on display. Fanning himself using the case, he gazes upon different packages of condoms, brightly coloured and depicting fruits as their flavours, erotic magazines advertising sex ‘tips’, handcuffs, both metal and the fluffy type, massage oil and tubes of lubrication. The latter looks handy to have on his own person, since Ushijima had been the one supplying it for the past weeks, being cocky about it too. At last, Hajime also found a small vibrator in the corner of the box. 

“Didn’t know you were this kinky.”

“This isn’t for _me_.” Tooru stares at the contents, pierces them with a look, not facing Hajime. “You don’t have to tell me who’re you dating.” 

_Aah._ “I’m not seeing anybody-”

“Don’t lie to me, Iwa-chan. You must think lowly of me, if you cannot even tell me who your girlfriend is.” Tooru’s glare directs to Hajime, who felt the sting. The angry look, and the disappointment in Tooru’s voice make Hajime cringe. He’d thought about telling him, what happens from time to time between him and Ushijima. It’s only been so weird and hectic to comprehend it for himself.

“I’m telling you, I don’t have a girl-”

Tooru’s hand shoots up between them, and Hajime stops. “Please, don’t make me angry. You probably have a good reason to keep it a secret. I’m not stupid, you know? It was quite easy to figure it out, and I’ve waited this long until you had the dignity to talk about it yourself.” Tooru pushes the box away from him, sighing.

“However, I’ve also got to respect your boundaries. You don’t have to tell me anything, if it makes you uncomfortable. Just- take this as a gift from your good friend to which you’ve lied and kept secrets from.” Tooru could be quite ready to up the drama and blow things out of proportion. Yet Hajime felt like shit. He hadn’t told anyone about it, but he could have at least try to talk to Tooru. His brain fails on the words he wants to say now, to admit the things not only hard, but impossible.

His eye catches another laminated package inside of the box, and he grabs it with interest.

“What’s this?”

“Well, all of it should help you and your non-existent girlfriend when you move on to second and third base, I guess. This one here is to make sure you keep it stiff!” Tooru’s face changes from pouting to being mean, his words spiteful in nature. Hajime couldn’t dislike him for it. He threw the package back into the box with the DVD, smiling gently as he kicks at Tooru’s knee in a soft gesture.

“...Thanks. I’m- it's complicated. That’s why I haven’t said a thing.”

“Hmph, whatever.” Tooru looks away, face conceited, unable to hide that the ‘thank you’ pleases him. 

“Asshole, I’m trying to apologize here, alright!?” Hajime kicks him harder, remembering in time that he’d been the one at fault, and that Tooru still has his back. “It’s still weirding me out, too, you know. I’ll tell you, when I- figure it out and shit.” Not able to face Tooru after his mumbling idiocy, he looks back to the box, to have at least stare at something. 

“Alright, but I want all the details, Iwa-chan! Especially the dirty ones.”

“Fuck you, I’m not going to tell you ‘that’!” The box and its contents forgotten, as well as his personal stuff, Hajime reaches for Tooru, about to give the top of the fluffy head a taste of his knuckles. They both fall to the floor in the scuffle, but at least Tooru laughs between his indignant yelps of pain. 

*~*~* 

It’s still freaky. While Hajime holds Wakatoshi’s arms which are placed at either side of his body, it’s impossible to focus on the stretch. Wakatoshi stares at him, eyes demanding of Hajime’s utmost attention. Hajime breathes in and out through his nose, his teeth only gritting when Wakatoshi moves in too fast. He makes sure to control his legs the same way he tries to stop letting his asshole squeeze the thick cock sliding inside of him. By sign of distress, Wakatoshi removes himself little by little, hips slow on the backward pull. Relaxing his hands, knees, breathing, Hajime opens his mouth just in time for the thrust back in to make him moan. Wakatoshi doesn’t speak much during these initial movements; he either talks Hajime through the prep, or becomes dirty at the end of their fucks. Eliciting small moans makes him smile though, soft snorts release through his nose, his mouth warps in a grin. 

It makes Hajime laugh too, although he looks away, trusting Wakatoshi to decide the pace, allowing him to move faster. After the first time, Hajime had thought of having Wakatoshi lie beneath him, would have him at Hajime’s mercy when he’d ride the bull. He’s been wrong about it, and now didn’t mind if he lie down or not. Closing his eyes to let the feeling overwhelm him, his shoulders slacken, as do any inhibitions he has on sounds, he also forgets that this isn’t a fight anymore, that he doesn’t have to prove himself. If his sounds make Wakatoshi smile, it isn’t so bad to let himself go.

Wakatoshi’s lower body speeds up, and he does something that makes Hajime lose his mind; rolling hips in circles, while he’s deep inside of Hajime. It makes the latter’s hands move up, touch more, a shameless show of how much he wants Wakatoshi to keep doing what he does best. Sunken into pillows and piles of sheets, Hajime’s back rises off the mattress as Wakatoshi hits the right spot inside of him, fucking right into it and making Hajime moan louder. In return, Hajime moves one leg up, the back of his foot, sliding over the moving lower back, giving Wakatoshi little more space to navigate. 

It drives him crazy, exactly how Hajime likes him best; watching those eyes close and lips open, warm face and thick brows furrowing. It’s when Wakatoshi buckles under the pleasure that Hajime’s hand slips under the pile he lies on, finger and thumb getting a hold of the hidden secret he kept there. In this state, Wakatoshi is weakest, and it’s the perfect time to enroll him to something fun. Moving one hand from the pectoralis muscle to where neck and throat meet, Hajime gets Wakatoshi’s attention.

The lewd eyes are full of lust, pupils dilate, hazy. Hajime smiles, and licks his lips.

“Kiss me.” He helps with the pull, keeping his hand on Wakatoshi’s neck when he moves downward, hovering over Hajime’s lips. Their breaths mingle, Wakatoshi’s lips barely reaching Hajime. 

“Beg for it.” Always playing hard to get, Hajime moves his hand down one of the arms, bending it under the new position. Fingers tease the inside of the elbow, a ticklish spot Hajime had found on accident, and made use of ever since he found out. 

“Fucking do it already.” Hajime moves up to capture the lips, but it's kept chaste by Wakatoshi, who pulls away. It’s not where Hajime wants him, or needs him to be. Hajime rolls his hips, his ass sliding over Wakatoshi’s thighs, now nestled beneath him. “Come on, I’m close. Please…” Hajime adds a whine to the last word, mewling because of Wakatoshi’s determined thrusts and because he needs it to play him. 

Wakatoshi smiles, too good, too confident. Going down without restraint, Wakatoshi kisses him, using tongue, slow and deliberate, just the way they’re fucking. Letting himself ease into the kiss, enjoying it to the fullest, Hajime doesn’t forget his objective. His hand moves down Wakatoshi’s arm, up as it slides alongside the mattress. He holds the wrist, which is usually a sign for when he tries to hold Wakatoshi’s hand as he comes.

Not today.

Using his strength and weight against him, Hajime overthrows Wakatoshi, using the moment of surprise which does the rest of the trick. And Wakatoshi is surprised when Hajime slides out one way, both his legs ramming Wakatoshi, making him fall to his side. He can’t react, not when Hajime straddles him, and encloses the secret hardware around Wakatoshi’s wrist in a quick move. The second click goes around the bed’s metal frame.

Wakatoshi curls his lips in anger, while Hajime straddles him just above the cock, not touching it with even an inch of his ass. The free hand takes him at the side, breathing in deep, Wakatoshi can only conclude that he’s unable to fight with just one arm and Hajime on top of him. The execution and success pleases Hajime as he takes in the view, the switched places. His palms brush over the tight muscles, across the heaving chest, which calms under his touch. Sliding himself forward, Hajime kisses the hard lines, to Wakatoshi’s chin, who keeps his mouth shut in defiance.

Hajime has one hand on the pulse, his shoulder in a weird angle to reach it. Of course Wakatoshi’s arm is at a weird angle in the first place, wrist hanging on the silver toy. Hajime gazes at Wakatoshi, trying to keep his face gentle and not triumphant. It’s only fun if they both want it, after all.

“I’ve planned this for you. Would you like to experience it?” He tries kissing him again, the bottom lip quivering when Hajime’s lips caress it. “I think it’s fun, and I have every intention to make it even more fun for you, Wakatoshi.”

The eyes are yet comprehensive, but Wakatoshi’s shoulders go lax into the cushions, letting out a deep breath he’d been holding through the nose. He waits for Hajime to continue, to divulge him more. They weren’t ready for blind faith yet, which Hajime accepts, not begrudging the need to know more, to hear the plan first before allowing it to happen. 

“We’re gonna slow it down for your sake as well as mine. I won’t let you come until I want it.” Below his fingers, Hajime felt a rising heartbeat, unable to determine if it was good or bad.

“And that’s supposed to stop me..?” The metal clinks at the bedframe when Wakatoshi shakes his fist, challenging him within the power-play, all while being at a disadvantage. It’s hilarious enough to snort, but Hajime keeps his mirth at bay. The heartbeat increases once more. Hajime’s interpretations were easy; 1) Wakatoshi, pissed off because Hajime didn’t state his dissatisfaction earlier 2) eager to start again. He nods, free hand lingering at Wakatoshi’s upper arm, letting one finger scratch at the tight biceps. It’s this eagerness that got them where they are now, but Hajime won’t go on without Wakatoshi’s approval. 

“If I tell you to release me, you would.” It’s not enough to be an immediate demand. Hajime would have used the keys the second he’d thought Wakatoshi wasn’t up for this. Any sort of discomfort other than the surprised irritation beneath him, and he’d gone apologizing and cocksucking. The interest in Wakatoshi’s eyes stops him from doing all that and more.

“Yeah, I would. But tell me, when you kissed me: you were about to come, weren’t you.” Hajime asks, although this question has gotten past teasing. It wasn’t about lying down and taking it. Yet he’s also been quite past being slammed into beds and walls, teased for opening his legs, being told how good he feels. Hajime wants to have the same amount of control Wakatoshi had, to extend what they had been doing, to put in some fun on his own terms. Tooru’s ‘fun box’ had presented plenty of ideas as to what to do. 

“Yes.” Wakatoshi’s eyes glance back at the silver ring, pulse steady as he lays eyes upon it. “And you’ve already stopped me.” 

Smirking, Hajime balls his fist and puts his knuckles beside Wakatoshi’s neck, his thumb nail brushes the side, exerting power. This time, Wakatoshi challenges Hajime, and the latter is eager to put his abilities to the test. Drifting close enough to hear Wakatoshi breathe, that quick inhale when Hajime leans in, Hajime lets his voice drop in volume and depth, creating a growl. 

“And you won’t come until I allow it.” He balances well, even as Wakatoshi’s hips try to create a wave to throw Hajime off his stomach. It doesn’t work, Hajime’s legs strong and reliable enough to stay where he places them, unfazed. “If you let me ride out my orgasm first, I’ll promise to make it good for you, too.”

Taking a deep breath, Wakatoshi’s eyes don’t travel elsewhere when he answers this time. “Fine, go on with what you had it mind, if it excites you so much.”

Glad with this docile agreement, Hajime keeps one hand on the chained arm, leaning back to let his free hand give Wakatoshi’s half-hard cock a few strokes, and on the plus side of being able to taunt his boyfriend, he also has a full view of his body. It doesn’t take long, and the hand slows in movements, ears keen to listen to the sounds he hears. Wakatoshi’s on defense still, not letting dirty things escape his mouth. Hajime’s ass and balls slide backwards, at the same scratching Wakatoshi’s chained arm as he moves away. The deep intake through the nose he hears pleases him, but he grabs the base of Wakatoshi’s cock tight, glancing back at him.

“Your turn.”

Wakatoshi doesn’t need any more instructions, moving his hand from where it had fallen to Hajime’s hip during his pitch, sliding it over the hipbone to Hajime’s manhood. Having some sort of equal ground, Wakatoshi regains some of his bravado.

“I, too, could decide to deny you the right to come, Hajime.”

“I’ve got all night.” Releasing his hold, Hajime slides back up, lingering close to Wakatoshi’s body, who keeps on teasing his cock. Sometimes it needs more than a display of power or a mere promise. Hajime lets his fingers tickle over the soft side of Wakatoshi’s inner arm, as much softness as it offers without flexing. “C’mon, don’t you wanna enjoy this, mhn? I’m trying to help you become the bull you’re meant to be, you know.”

“Tch, you elevated me from a cow to bull, at last.” Even in private, Wakatoshi had to endure insults including the word “cow”, and once had been giving a white blanket with black spots at a picnic to sit on. Hajime’s fingertips touch Wakatoshi’s pulse ever so softly, while the dear memory of Wakatoshi’s blank face standing in the grass, looking to Hajime as if he had a screw loose, makes him smile. Unable to have his hands at both places, Hajime’s lower body moves, trying to get Wakatoshi’s cock straight below him. He then moves his spread ass all over the length, enjoying the rub just as much as Wakatoshi does, taking Wakatoshi’s unchained hand, brings it up into the pillows beside his face, to play both the ticklish spots between palm and elbow. 

Wakatoshi crumbles beneath him, eyes closing and hips bucking. Trying to get as much as he can out of the touch given to him. Hajime lets him go wild at first, but then sits up and out of reach, ramming his behind onto Wakatoshi’s stomach once more.

“Fuck- you dirty little..!”

“Ah, be nice. I told you I have all night.” Hajime grins, kissing Wakatoshi’s sweaty brows. They smooth under the soft pressure, and Wakatoshi’s composure rebuilds. Showing he bears him no ill will, Hajime continues with the caresses behind him, hand slow, thumb circling the dripping head. 

Every time Wakatoshi’s breathing increases, Hajime loosens his grip, palm flat on the thick vein, fingertips brushing above the balls. Wakatoshi huffs, the built up tension running through his entire body when Hajime makes him wait. As hard as it is to watch, Hajime stubbornness won’t let him come as he pleases. He brings Wakatoshi’s cock to his entrance, circles the dripping head. 

“Don’t you dare come, Toshi.” The sweet nickname doesn’t underline any kindness in Hajime’s critical and strict manner. Wakatoshi breathes in, eyes to the ceiling, nodding his understanding. Lowering, Hajime sighs when Wakatoshi’s cock inches in, then feels the throb and the strength beneath him repress. His smile is fond, Hajime tilts his head to the side, hand loose on Wakatoshi’s dick when he sits on top of him. “Very good.”

Riding him, slow and steady, Hajime watches Wakatoshi, whose face is warm and sweaty from the strain. He hints at Hajime, whenever he threatens to be close to his orgasm, by the means of his nose flaring in anticipation. Hajime’s smile vanishes, and he sits up, hovering above Wakatoshi’s pulsating cock. 

“Goddamn you. This is bullshit.” Wakatoshi doesn’t even glimpse at him, throat stretching so he can glare at the ceiling and direct most of his anger to an object. Being on the brink for an extended time is good for a man’s orgasm, but Hajime keeps mum about it. There’s a part in Hajime who actively enjoys watching Wakatoshi not being perfect. To see him have a hard time keeping himself collected, before he shows Hajime they can continue. “This isn’t sex, this is punishment. There’s nothing ‘erotic’ about it.”

“If you control yourself, it will be.” On all fours and not touching Wakatoshi, Hajime leans forward, kissing his chin. “Its gonna feel better for you, if you trust me.”

“Trusting you isn’t the issue.” Breathing out heavily through his nose, Wakatoshi lies back as comfortably as he can, eyes shut, before he kisses Hajime. It’s blind, and he misses, lips touching the corners of Hajime’s mouth. Only then he looks at Hajime, who feels his attraction to Wakatoshi become something deeper again. “What are you waiting for?” 

After repeating this for some time, Wakatoshi stops cursing, keeping his torso flat to show submission. Rewarding the change, Hajime bows, lips gentle as they touch Wakatoshi’s ticklish spots. He licks the inner elbow, lowering towards the lines where the muscles tighten. Planting kisses on return, Hajime nibbles at the elbow, pleased at the tremble below him. Meanwhile, Hajime does little to himself; he’s in good hands with Wakatoshi, who doesn’t stop fisting his member. 

As Hajime’s own orgasm is brought to the brink, Wakatoshi increases the speed of his pumps. Hajime’s forehead hovers over the arm, his lower body jerking forward, only to be seized at the base before Hajime can come. It pisses him off to have his own method used against him, on top of having Wakatoshi eye him as if there’s no problem at all. Grinning all the same, Hajime freezes when Wakatoshi’s hand comes up to his face.

“You could just fuck me instead.” Getting used to Wakatoshi’s earnest ways isn’t an easy feat, and Hajime hasn’t mastered it yet. His shoulders slump, as if in defeat. He’d given it some consideration before too, but hadn’t thought he’d find pleasent agreement. Given the opportunity on a silver platter, he cannot help but shake his head, the protest rises at ease on his lips.

“Not like this.” Hajime wants it, no lies there, but now wouldn’t be a good time to try. 

“What, you need both my hands in chains for it? Is that your whole deal, Hajime?” The smile doesn’t shield Wakatoshi from being hit on the shoulder. Hajime kisses him again, way too in love with this idiot. He doesn’t stop this time, losing himself in the intimate touch, while Wakatoshi continues to bring pleasure to his core, working Hajime’s cock. Twisting, fucking into the offered hand, Hajime unable to stop until his teeth bite on Wakatoshi’s bottom lip, quivering moans and different versions of ‘Wakatoshi’; they change in octaves, syllables missing, and he comes over Wakatoshi’s abdominal muscles, the last name call a mere breath. 

He doesn’t hesitate or catch his breath. Repositioning himself on Wakatoshi’s member to ride him, honour him with the love and trust he’s been given. Without inhibitions, attentive to Wakatoshi’s mute moans, Hajime places his hands on the dirtied stomach. Wakatoshi holds him at the side of his body, eyes closing when Hajime’s wild movements bring him on the verge of his limit, allowing to come as he needs to. 

Spent, Hajime collapses, forehead on Wakatoshi’s chest, who touches his hair using his free hand. Drowsy with sleep, legs weary, Hajime slides snake-like across to find the little key to the cuffs, releasing Wakatoshi’s wrist. The hand twirls in the air, Wakatoshi’s thumb caressing over the abused indent from where he tried to break loose. Hajime kisses little apologies on the redness he sees, forgiven by head pats, and kisses to his cheek. 

They rearrange the pile they’ve fucked on to nest in, falling asleep shortly after Hajime lies on his side and in Wakatoshi’s arms.

*~*~*

Wakatoshi fucks him unabated, Hajime’s legs press against his sides. His hands edging below the knees, folded, adamant of holding Hajime the way he wants. The practice match against Seijou wore him out, but not enough to let Hajime drop while he rams his lover into the wall. The insistent demands of Hajime invigorate him, to be hard and fast, while Hajime lacks the strength to do anything else but to hold on to Wakatoshi’s shoulders. 

Sighing and moaning together, Wakatoshi releases one hand, making sure he has Hajime steady as he thrusts into him, to move a free hand to Hajime’s jawline. Their faces are close, lips a breath away from touching. Wakatoshi waits until Hajime notices the proximity, eyes fluttering open as he leans into the palm. There’s a tired smile, filthy as a result of the happiness of what they’re doing in the boy’s club room, fills with the slamming noises from between their bodies. Thankful for the increased stamina Wakatoshi has received during their ‘new’ plays, he’s glad he’s able to fuck Hajime longer, to make him really _feel_ it, to make him tremble with lust. The arms sling around Wakatoshi’s neck, and Hajime’s intention to kiss and come are clear. 

“Hajime.” He stops him from moving his neck, making sure Hajime’s eyes lock onto him, eyes yearning, devotion showing. The same sort of affection Wakatoshi begs the gods to be visible in his own eyes too, specially in this moment. “I love you.”

The fond eyes widen, while the warm face Wakatoshi looks at reddens, a total blank at how to react. Wakatoshi bows his legs, not yet fatigued from the many jumps he performed an hour ago. He angles his hips, thrusting his cock into Hajime in a way to stroke the over-sensitive prostate. 

“I.. I- I- Aaaah!” Hajime cannot speak like this, mouth rendered useless as he comes. The tightening around Wakatoshi’s manhood kicks him in the gut, and he slams his forehead against Hajime’s when he orgasm as well, riding it out more slowly. 

Finished, he slides them off wall and to the ground, first into a crouch so they can sit without falling over, while Hajime’s forehead is still on Wakatoshi’s. They stay like this, Hajime’s lungs filling with much-needed air, and he releases himself from the forehead-touch, to gaze at Wakatoshi. Wiping the sweat from his brow, hands lower to the throat and collarbone, his eyes clearing.

“I love you too.” They both smile, embarrassed by those ludicrous words, laughing at the stupidity of sitting naked post-sex here, after volleyball practice, of all places and times to say these words. Only to hear a squeak. 

“Well I’ll be damned. You didn’t lie when you said you had no girlfriend, Iwa-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am still shocked that this fic is so well-liked, read, and kudo'd on~ (I mean I kinda get it because the erotic ones tend to do better). 
> 
> The thing is... I have a few ushiiwa ideas still (which range from aus, to ushiiwakage, to asexual relationships, to iwaushi experimenting) but I just cannot find the time to write all the things I want to ;v; Still!! if you liked this story and would love to see more of this pairing, I am super super grateful and happy to hear so, and I will try my very best to write more (hopefully :'D) this year!!  
> (let me just plug myself here real quick :DDD'''' -> [If you liked this piece of writing or my stuff in general, please consider supporting my work by buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A087FIE) You can also [request specific work to be written for you!](http://fish-wifey.tumblr.com/post/153555122225/%E3%80%86%EF%BE%9F-%EF%BE%9F-coffee-is-life))
> 
> ((I wrote this Ending notes after... so much time has passed www;;;)


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